To the mountains for Mother's Day

I'm not sure what most people do for Mother's Day. I usually just get my mom some flowers and chocolate. This year, however, I thought outside the box. A few weeks ago, I casually floated the idea of a Mother's Day hike. No one seemed to object. With this past Sunday forecasted to be gorgeous, the parents and I thought we might as well get outside and enjoy it. 

Lunch break on the ledges of Burnt Meadow mountain.

After everyone had enjoyed at least one cup of coffee, we grabbed some snacks, packed our bags and headed out the door. After a 45 minute drive, we pulled into the makeshift parking lot at the trailhead for Burnt Meadow and Stone Mountains. At 10am, we weren’t the only car there. 

Obligatory Mother's Day Photo: Mom & I

After putting our boots on, we started down the trail…and by down, I mean, up! The two mountains aren’t large by any standard, but the trail immediately heads uphill and your legs have no time to stretch out or warm up. We quickly passed a couple that had stopped to take off a few layers and put on sun block. (Note to self: sun block would have been a great idea; instead I have a very noticeable t-shirt and hiking sock tan.) 

Burnt Meadow mountain is made up of three rocky humps, the third being the summit. Shortly after cresting the first hump, the trail flattens out a bit and heads downhill into an aspen grove. Here the trail diverges; to the right, the trail leads up Burnt Meadow, while the left hand trail leads into a ravine between the two mountains. We took the left hand trail, since my parents hadn’t yet hiked it (I had explored it this past winter). The next ¾ of a mile are beautiful. The trail winds through the aspens and pines into the valley, which is cooler and peaceful. A steady breeze is blowing and it is a welcome relief to the unseasonably hot conditions.

As the trail turns and heads up to the col between the two mountains, it gets increasingly steep. To the right of us, the slope of Burnt Meadow mountain is covered in fallen boulders of varying sizes, some as small as a soccer ball, others the size of a car.

At the top of the col, we turn left and head up the Stone Mountain trail, which is clearly not well traveled. We enter a grove of pine trees, so dense the sun can barely make it through the canopy, and only speckles of sunlight reach the mossy ground below. It’s a good 10 degrees cooler in this patch, but it quickly ends and we are back into the sunshine. The budding trees offer little shade this early in the season. This trail is quite gradual and has several swicthbacks as it nears the summit. The top of the mountain offers few views due to the trees, but several paths lead down to rocky outcrops with views of the surrounding land. We’re not in a wilderness area of any sort, but rural Maine is gorgeous, and several barns and houses dot the otherwise endless, rolling carpet of greenery. One of the view points faces east, from which you can see Pleasant mountain, and, in the distance, Sebago Lake. The other viewpoint faces west towards the White Mountains and North Conway. You might even catch of glimpse of the snowy Presidential Range through the trees. 

Unfortunately, with the warmer weather and the arrival of spring comes one small unpleasantry, ticks. The tall grasses by the western outlook had plenty of them, and we all did a tick check and removed several large (thankfully, easy to see) ticks from our lower halves. I proceeded to imagine things crawling on me for the next several minutes as we headed back down to the col. Going down was quick, and my dad remarked that he hadn’t realized how much elevation this last spur had gained. After meeting with the main trail at the col, we headed up the back side of Burnt Meadow, which alternates between open scrambles of rock and shady forest. The heat is oppressive. I'm not at all acclimatized and sweat is coming out of every possible pore. My dad takes off up the trail, but I hang back with my mom as we steadily climb, stopping in the patches of shade to enjoy the occasional breeze.

We catch up to my dad, who has stopped just before the final push to the summit, and we all march on up on a narrow path that weaves through a thick blanket of wild blueberry bushes (note to self: come here in july). The top of the mountain is a large flat plateau, the center of which is clear of trees and has a large cairn. The ledges lie off the the southern side of the mountain, and we head over to find a place to rest. Cracking open roasted pistachios, we toss the shells down the steep cliff (sorry, LNT) and look out over the valley between the two mountains and southward towards unknown small hills that wrinkle the horizon. A bag of crystallized ginger gets passed around 'til its empty. The midday sun beats down, and a breeze comes up from the valley below. The sweat dries. A half hour goes by; time to continue.

The next ¼ mile of trail is loose rock and exposed trail, which looks down to the lower two humps of the mountain. Here, it is important to watch your footing and take your time. At several spots, I sat down and scooted myself down rock faces. The trail was getting busy, and we passed several groups headed up. I didn’t envy them as the headed up the mountain during the hottest part of the day. The breeze had died off, and there were only a few small clouds off in the distance; it almost felt like summer. A few trees were flowering, and if you looked closely around the edges of the trail, there were some small red colored flowers that daintily hung from their stalks.

Soon, you could hear the sound of cars passing by on the road below, and we rounded the bend, coming out to a full parking lot. We took off our boots, rolled down the windows and hopped in the car, stinky feet and all.